Scissors
by Spacebutt
Summary: Duo tortures himself with the idea of a different type of cutting. 1x2


**Scissors  
Schmoogy**

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to its owner.

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He had tried to make his disappearance quiet but I noticed his hasty exit through the kitchen and out the backdoor. Duo was known for his specialty in stealth, getting in and out, but I had been watching him like a hawk since the beginning of the evening. Since I had sensed that something was wrong.

Normally, things like this don't strike anything in my mind. I would ignore such things, assuming that he had gone out for a smoke, to count the stars or some other obscure thing that he had been taught in his childhood. When I was a child, I had no time for anything like that.

But I did take the time to watch the moon. It was my quiet solace. I had wondered whether Duo had watched the moon as well.

"Hey," I said, closing the backdoor softly. He was out here as I predicted, playing with something in his hands, a soft, wistful look on his pale face.

Duo jerked in surprise, whipping around and in that split second I could see him stuff the pensive expression back behind a grin too large to be real. Far too many straight teeth. "Heero! What are you doing out here?"

I didn't answer, I didn't have a straightforward reply. Instead, I settled myself next to him on the porch step. He was still surprised, knowing that usually I wouldn't come so close to him of my own free will. Our arms were nearly touching for God's sake. I could feel the loose sleeve of his cotton t-shirt brushing against my shoulder.

I took advantage of his surprise and I turned my line of sight towards his lap, to see what exactly he was holding in his hands. Cold metal glinted in the amber glow of the porch light.

Scissors.

The horrified thoughts that flew to me must have shown on my face because Duo was immediately consoling me, laughing and holding out his clear wrists for me to inspect. "You thought…" he said after the laughs died away. "I was harming myself? Oh Gods, the expression on your face was priceless."

I was slightly annoyed. He was taking my concern lightly. But at the same time I was relieved. He wasn't hurting himself. I didn't know whether he could ever drag those blades across his pale skin. I didn't really want to know.

"Then why are you out here, hiding from everyone else, with a pair of scissors?" I asked gruffly, giving him the scissors back. I had snatched them away as soon as I had seen them.

The jovial warmth in his face faded, to be replaced with a contemplative look. He seemed to be weighing something out in his mind. "Well...Heero. Do you have dream? Something about life after the war? Something you want to accomplish?"

I started. It had occurred to me several times that by chance if I _do _survive the war, then I had to do something with my life. But I had never mulled on the idea for too long. "Not really," I replied. My arm itched and I scratched it, my roughened knuckles coming into contact with Duo's warm arm. His skin jumped from the touch. My hands were cold. That was the most probable reason. "I'll try to survive. If I do, I'll use my abilities to where they will help the most."

"Good idea," Duo replied, nodding and smiling. He looked up at the sky, the moon big and bright. We couldn't see the stars from here on earth. There were already too many lights that drowned the stars out. "I have a dream."

A breeze blew past and I noticed him shiver slightly. I wanted to get him a jacket or at the very least put my arm around him, but he would probably give me an odd look. Of course I was surprised when he reached round and dangled an arm over my shoulders. Duo grinned at me. "You were shivering," he offered as an explanation.

I don't shiver. It's a waste of energy.

"I don't shiver," I told him.

"You keep telling yourself that."

It was a comforting weight. It was warm.

But he had managed to slip out of elaborating about the scissors. I reminded him of his dream. He was silent for a moment. Then with his other hand, he pulled his braid over his shoulder and looked me straight in the eye.

"I want to cut this off."

It took my nearly all of my self control to stop my mouth from opening slightly. At the very least not to stare. "B-but-bu-" I coughed and then swallowed harshly. He seemed amused at my reaction. "Why?" That was his great dream? I knew what the braid meant to him, the memories it held for him and whose hands had first braided the mass of hair.

"This is the remainder of what happened," Duo said softly, still looking at me with a slight quirk of the lips.

"You want to forget?"

Duo seemed shocked at the idea. "No! Never!" he exclaimed. He coughed, maybe embarrassed by his outburst. "What I mean is," he said more quietly. "That it reminds me of my guilt. I-I used to be plagued with the idea that the Maxwell Massacre was my fault. Damn near believed it as well. But as I went on and worked with you guys…" The grip on my shoulder tightened. "I learned an important thing."

Here he grinned at me. "Shit happens. And sometimes, you can't stop it. No matter what. I keep my hair as a memorial to everyone who died that day and to remind myself who was at fault. I always thought it was myself and that idea hammered itself into my thick skull until I only had to look at my hair and think, _Oh God. I killed them_. _It was my fault._

But I know it's not right. And the only way for me to get rid of that idea is to get rid of the reminder."

I didn't say anything for a moment, but instead lifted my arm to wrap around Duo's shoulders. He tensed, then relaxed, leaning into me gently. "I understand," I said. "But you don't need to go to such lengths to try and teach yourself what is right and what's not."

I loved his hair. I didn't want it to go. It may have been selfish on my part but I was willing to help him forget his guilt over something that was not his fault.

"No," Duo said, his face set. "I've tried to do it in the past. I've come out here every night with the scissors in my hands, but I could never do it. Never. I don't know why. Maybe it's because whenever I touch it, I hear _her _voice."

The idea of having to cut the thick, glossy mane hit an unpleasant note inside me. Duo noticed and smiled apologetically. He passed the scissors to me and what he said shook me to the core. "Will you cut it for me?" I could hear a tone in his voice, which told me that he couldn't bear to do it himself.

I took them silently and his arm left my shoulders. His back faced me, the braid swinging back over his shoulders to pool on the porch. My hands were starting to sweat. I took the braid and it was silky to touch.

"Duo…"

"Well, what you waiting for?" He tried to sound demanding, but only succeeded in sounding nervous. My own anxiety swelled inside me like a tidal wave.

"I…I can't…" This was ridiculous. I couldn't cut _hair. _I could blow buildings up and hold detailed tactical maneuvers inside my head, but I couldn't cut hair.

"Oh come off it Heero."

My lips hardened in a tight line. "Fine," I said. "But before I cut it, can I see it down?"

I wouldn't have called it a fantasy, but I had always hoped to see his hair free from its confines. What would he look like?

I could imagine him blinking in surprise, his face twisting in confusion. "Uh, sure buddy. Lemme undo it." His hands reached back and snapped the tie. He shook his head about a bit and the hair slowly fell free. I itched to help it along, but didn't dare to run my fingers through it. Duo turned to face me, smiling oddly. "This okay?"

Without the chestnut hair kept back in its tight war-braid, he looked different. I couldn't tell if he looked older or younger, but it didn't matter. He still looked magnificent. I realised that the hair didn't really matter. It wouldn't have mattered if he decided to shave it off. I would have felt like I had lost something, but...it wasn't that important.

I nodded, now confident in his decision. "You sure you want me to cut it?"

He flapped a hand at me before turning around again. "Yes yes. Do it now before I change my mind." I like to think that my confidence had helped settle him a little.

Gathering the hair together in one hand, I dragged the scissors through it. The tearing sound made us both wince, but I continued to snip here and cut there until it was even. The locks of hair fell on to the wooden porch step, some falling through the gaps and holes in the wood, never to be seen again. Duo's grip was tight on the stair railing, his knuckles white and shaking.

I had finished. His hair was a neater length, it just reached his shoulders and curled inwards slightly. It didn't have the same raw, wild look about it as it did a moment ago. I still had a fistful of hair in my other hand, which I dropped onto the grass and into the wind.

Duo ran a hand through his shortened hair, making the light dance upon it. Suddenly he turned around, a radiant smile on his face. My breath caught in my throat. My heart stopped, its pulse not wanting to interrupt this moment. "Thank you," he said. The light in his eyes made me giddy. The moon paled in comparison. Now, he looked much younger.

He shook his head again, the last wisps of his reminder finally falling and freeing him. "My head feels lighter."

_As does my heart._

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_ AN I'm trying to improve my writing style. Feedback would be fantastic!_


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